Ficlet // Run // AkiraxTokito // K
here's a little drabble (for the 30 kisses challenge) that I wrote after being vaguely inspired by the last few chapters, and my new icon by citren_acidz. I must warn you: it's really fluffy. I publicly pay my utmost gratitude to xskadi for beta-ing it, sending me a good song that actually does go well with this fic, supporting me *wipes tears* etc. :P
Title: Run
Author/Artist: Ekachi/Vitalquills
Pairing: AkiraxTokito.
Fandom: Samurai Deeper Kyo
Theme: #9. Dash
Disclaimer: SDK = not mine.
Spoiler: Volume 32+
You begin to make a dash from the moment you emerge out of the oblivion. You don’t know why you are running for him, but you do anyway.
You scarcely know this insolent jerk. He defeated you and turned his back and told you to get over yourself; old Tokito would not have let a human say such things to her.
But you felt so comforted when his rough hands laid gently on your shoulders.
But you felt so safe since the moment he opened his eyes.
The moment they were revealed, you felt the knot in your stomach come undone - as if your own eyes were open.
So you didn’t mind letting him live a little longer.
Old Tokito would have killed him, or at least would have replied with an excellent remark or two; but new Tokito just runs. You don’t have time to contemplate or reflect or reason. You project your tarot cards into the blood soldiers and make way.
At the end of the road sits a boy who is supporting himself with two swords. His expression is obscured by pain, and you think for a split second that his very existence is fading when he coughs blood into his palm.
Not yet, you whisper. Just as your father said. It's not the end.
You run so desperately to reach him because he is waiting. You know that he is waiting for you to find him. He trusts you - a stranger - to protect him, and you have no plans to neglect that trust, no matter how absurd it may be.
He would never, ever admit that he was fighting for you or that he was worried sick or that he was waiting for you to come back and rescue him. You know that once you reach him, he would just state the truth with frigid frankness: “you are back.”
But his cold comment would mean a thousand kisses. He wouldn’t smile or laugh or embrace you, but you know that he would try to reach for your wrists when you are looking away. He wouldn’t actually do it, but you’d sense his hand near yours and grab it. You would hold it tightly, and he would tremble, not out of weakness, but as an unspoken declaration, a silent response: not yet.
They are not going to get you. Not yet. Not ever.
It is a dash to save yourself as much as to save him; you can’t afford to lose another one of those wordless men who sport an icy veneer to veil their warmth.
You need him. It’s really hard to explain why or how even in your wide-ranging vocabulary, so you don’t bother to justify yourself. What matters is that you need him, and that he is there at the end of the road, waiting.
So you keep running.
Title: Run
Author/Artist: Ekachi/Vitalquills
Pairing: AkiraxTokito.
Fandom: Samurai Deeper Kyo
Theme: #9. Dash
Disclaimer: SDK = not mine.
Spoiler: Volume 32+
You begin to make a dash from the moment you emerge out of the oblivion. You don’t know why you are running for him, but you do anyway.
You scarcely know this insolent jerk. He defeated you and turned his back and told you to get over yourself; old Tokito would not have let a human say such things to her.
But you felt so comforted when his rough hands laid gently on your shoulders.
But you felt so safe since the moment he opened his eyes.
The moment they were revealed, you felt the knot in your stomach come undone - as if your own eyes were open.
So you didn’t mind letting him live a little longer.
Old Tokito would have killed him, or at least would have replied with an excellent remark or two; but new Tokito just runs. You don’t have time to contemplate or reflect or reason. You project your tarot cards into the blood soldiers and make way.
At the end of the road sits a boy who is supporting himself with two swords. His expression is obscured by pain, and you think for a split second that his very existence is fading when he coughs blood into his palm.
Not yet, you whisper. Just as your father said. It's not the end.
You run so desperately to reach him because he is waiting. You know that he is waiting for you to find him. He trusts you - a stranger - to protect him, and you have no plans to neglect that trust, no matter how absurd it may be.
He would never, ever admit that he was fighting for you or that he was worried sick or that he was waiting for you to come back and rescue him. You know that once you reach him, he would just state the truth with frigid frankness: “you are back.”
But his cold comment would mean a thousand kisses. He wouldn’t smile or laugh or embrace you, but you know that he would try to reach for your wrists when you are looking away. He wouldn’t actually do it, but you’d sense his hand near yours and grab it. You would hold it tightly, and he would tremble, not out of weakness, but as an unspoken declaration, a silent response: not yet.
They are not going to get you. Not yet. Not ever.
It is a dash to save yourself as much as to save him; you can’t afford to lose another one of those wordless men who sport an icy veneer to veil their warmth.
You need him. It’s really hard to explain why or how even in your wide-ranging vocabulary, so you don’t bother to justify yourself. What matters is that you need him, and that he is there at the end of the road, waiting.
So you keep running.